


the way you numbed all the pain

by fmljustlex



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I’m sorry, M/M, its mainly just kit and ty, there’s a lot of angst, they’re all pretty brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:44:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmljustlex/pseuds/fmljustlex
Summary: She watched his face, the way his usually avoidant gaze was trained on his twin—and the way she could see him breaking, all over again. She watched, unable to move, as he crumbled, and waited for him to hit the floor again.But he didn't. He only got as far as knees before arms caught him and pulled him in. Kit.Emma expected Ty to push him away, to flinch from the touch. Instead he sunk into him, eyes wide and breath shuddering as Kit wrapped him up and squeezed.~^~Takes place right after the events of Lord of Shadows. Kit does what he can to comfort Ty.None of this is possibly canon now after just the snippets, but I started it after I read the last book and only finished it now.





	the way you numbed all the pain

Kit was staring at Magnus when the warlock blinked his eyes open about ten minutes after Diego and Kieran had left. He looked at Kit curiously for a moment before raising a hand, rubbing his temple. “The similarity is unnatural until you take in the eyes,” he muttered, pushing himself up until he was sitting properly on the sofa. “What did I miss?”

Kit shrugged, wondering the same thing himself. “Everything I did. I've been in here since before the meeting started.” He tried not to feel bitter about it; this would've been the first time he'd witnessed any type of official shadowhunter business; the first time he would have gotten a chance to see if his father was actually right about some shadowhunters, if the descriptions matched others where they didn't with the Blackthorns.

Whatever was happening in the hall had gotten worse since Alec had left and Diego had disappeared with Kieran. The distant noise had taken Kit a few minutes to register as yells, the indistinguishable buzz of too many loud voices piled on top of each other. 

It was a riot, and if what he'd seen from his five minutes spent out there at the beginning was any indication, he was sure it wasn't a painless one.

Magnus seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his cat-like eyes narrowed with worry. “We'd better go join the fun, it seems.”

The warlock stumbled once he got to his feet, and Kit moved to his side, taking a hold of his arm. He eyed him worriedly. “Are you sure that's a good idea? It sounds like it's getting pretty rowdy out there. I'm pretty sure Alec would want you to just, you know, wait here.”

Magnus steadied himself before rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, Alec, who's out there in the rowdiness. Along with your new shadowhunter friends, if I'm correct?”

Kit groaned internally as he felt the last of his resolve disappear. He slung Magnus's arm over his shoulder and began to walk them to the door, much to the warlock's satisfaction. Kit rolled his eyes, muttering about stubborn warlocks under his breath. His expression morphed into a scowl when he heard a mumble about ‘stubborn Herondales’ in return. 

When they got to the main doors, Kit barely saved them from being knocked down. He yanked Magnus back just as the doors flung open and a few Shadowhunters stumbled out, all in various forms of disarray.

Kit stood in shocked silence for a moment before the arm around his shoulder tightened. “Thank the angel for shadowhunter reflexes,” Magnus said airily, pulling him back into motion.

They stopped just inside the door, this time both of them freezing in shock. The hall was in chaos, shadowhunters of all ages and races shouting at each other. Kit watched with wide eyes as a pair of men a few rows in front of them started shoving each other, until the stockier one threw a fist. Kit tore his gaze away to exchange a worried glance with Magnus, before they both resumed their path forward, moving faster now to find the others. 

They pushed through the throngs of fighting shadowhunters to a clearer space near the front, when Kit felt someone grab his arm. 

He flinched before recognizing Cristina, who was looking around wildly, tears streaming down her face. Kit felt fear bloom in his chest. He was about to ask her what was wrong when Magnus broke away from his side with a breathless, “ _Alec._ ” 

He took off towards the dais and Kit's gaze followed him. The path was blocked with more shadowhunters but Magnus side-stepped them easily, and Kit finally saw the scene on the platform.

Alec was hunched over a blood soaked Robert Lightwood, light tears running down his cheeks as Jia stood behind them, face pale and lips parted in horror. It took Kit a moment to realise her glistening eyes weren't trained on the inquisitor and his son though, but rather on something off to the side. His eyes found familiar blonde hair and he took in Emma—face twisted in pained shock and Cortana in hand—before landing on a hunched over Julian, the shadowhunters strong shoulders shaking with sobs, his usual stern expression contorted into one of pure anguish.

Tears streaked down his face and fell on the body cradled in his arms, and Kit felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

“No,” he whispered. His chest tightened, his lungs closing in and his heart contracting in pain. Livvy lay in her older brother's arms. Her brown Blackthorn hair flowed down around her shoulders and over Julian's arm, her eyes closed. Looking at her face, Kit could almost convince himself she was sleeping.

Then his gaze ran over her neck and shoulders, until his eyes landed on the sword hilt protruding from her chest, her dress darkened with blood. His eyes stung, thinking on how her eyes had brightened when she'd seen her sister, when he'd last seen her, before she'd taken off with Ty on her heels.

_Ty._

Cristina squeezed his arm and he turned to her, his pulse beating rapidly.

Her expression was pained but somewhat calming, and he realised suddenly she needed him to stay calm, too. “We need to get to them.”

Kit swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded, side by side with Cristina as they started to push their way forward. Cristina had managed to put herself in front of him, leaving him to follow her blindly. He was waiting for them to make it to the dais, and was surprised when she suddenly stopped halfway there, barely stopping himself from crashing into her back. 

He felt his heart drop when he realised why they'd stopped. Mark was knelt at the end of one of the rows, hunched over an unconscious Ty.

Mark looked up at them with teary eyes. “No one caught him,” he choked out. “He might've hit his head.” He had Ty's head cradled in his lap, hands fluttering over him shakily. He was staring at his younger brother intensely, and Kit realised he was looking for something wrong that he could fix. He was distracting himself with any minor injuries Ty might have, something he could help, to make up for all the other things he couldn't.

As Cristina laid a hand on the half-faerie’s shoulder, it struck Kit that this was always who she'd been planning to get to—this was the ‘them’. Mark and Ty.

He looked back towards the dais. The path was clearer now that they'd gotten closer, and he could see Drusilla knelt a few feet away. Julian was still hunched over his sister, and Kit could hear him now, could make out the pained mantra of, ‘Livvy, please, Livia, come on baby, wake up, _please_ ’. Emma seemed to be frozen in place, though her arms were shaking, and her eyes glistened with tears.

“Go.”

Kit somehow managed to force the word from his throat, voice sounding unlike his own. Mark and Cristina stared up at him, and he attempted to elaborate, glad this time his voice came out less hoarse. “You should go to them. I'll stay with Ty.” Mark looked down at his little brother, debating, and Kit added, “I'll take care of him, I promise, but they need you.”

The elder Blackthorn nodded slowly, and Kit swallowed as he lifted Ty's head from his lap, laying him gently on the ground. Cristina gave Kit a grateful smile before Mark took her hand and they started towards the others.

Kit let out a shaky breath, looking down at the boy on the floor. He slowly sank to his knees and reached out a shaky hand before thinking better of it, letting it drop back to his side.

He didn't know how to deal with this.

His heart had broke already at the sight of Livvy, but this—he didn't know if he could handle this. He didn't know why he'd offered to be the one to stay with Ty. What happened if he woke up? What was Kit supposed to do then? He didn't even know what happened before he came in, how much Ty had seen. He didn't know how he'd react when he woke up. He was sure Ty wouldn't want him to be the one with him, either way. Kit couldn't do anything for him. He didn't know how.

Kit pushed those thoughts away. He moved to sit on the floor fully, and gently lifted Ty’s head into his lap, a position much the same as the one Mark had just vacated. 

He looked down at him and allowed himself to carefully brush the shadowhunter's dark hair from his eyes, stroking it back gently. A glance up informed him that Mark and Cristina had made it to the others; Mark was crouched next to Drusilla, arms wrapped around his sister in a comforting gesture as she sobbed into his chest. Kit tore his eyes away to find that Cristina had carried on to the dias and was now hugging Emma, who in turn was clutching on to her arm with her free hand, the other still firmly holding Cortana.

He couldn't bring himself to carry his gaze on over, to where Julian was still cradling his sister. To where he was still cradling Livvy.

“Kit.”

Kit whipped his gaze down to find grey eyes looking back up at him. “Ty,” he breathed, hand moving to cup his cheek. “Hey.”

Ty’s eyes kept a steady gaze somewhere around Kit's cheek, and he brought a fluttering hand up to the one resting on his cheek, wrapping shaking fingers tightly around Kit's wrist. “Livvy.”

Kit flit his gaze towards the dais before quickly looking back down. “Ty–” he started, voice choked, but the shadowhunter cut him off immediately.

“Please,” Ty whispered. “Please, I need to see Livvy, Kit, please.”

His hand kept twisting around Kit's arm, fingers tapping anxiously against his wrist, and Kit had no idea what to do. “You might—you could've hit your head,” he attempted. “I told Mark and Cristina I'd stay with you, we should stay here—”

“ _Kit._ ”

He stopped abruptly, looking down at the boy lying in his lap, beautiful face contorted in anguish. Ty's grey eyes looked back, pained, watering, directly into Kit's and he begged again, “Please.”

Kit felt his heart break again, then. He couldn't bare the thought of Ty seeing his twin like that, knowing the image would break him and always stay with him. But he also couldn't bare the thought of denying the other boy this—of being with her, of being with the rest of his family. 

He nodded, stroking Ty's cheek once more, softly, before wrapping his arms around him and lifting them both to their feet.

~^~

Emma hadn't looked away. She couldn't even when Cristina came to her, holding her up when she fell back against her. Her gaze remained trained on the scene in front of her. On her _parabatai_. 

On the sword hilt that was still visible, its blade buried in Livvy’s chest, feeling like it was her fault. 

She had broken the Mortal Sword. 

In turn, it had broken her family.

Cristina's arms squeezed her shoulders tightly and she could hear the tears in the other girl's voice when she spoke. “Emma, it's okay, Emma.”

She was telling her to let go of the sword, to put it down, to let go of _Cortana_. The weapon that was still a dead weight in her hand, pulling her arm towards the floor, yet she couldn't let go.

She couldn't stop watching. Not where Dru was crying on her knees with Mark at her side, where Helen was clutching her wife, face hidden; where Julian was hunched over, sobbing. Where Ty had made it to the bottom of the dais. 

She watched his face, the way his usually avoidant gaze was trained on his twin—and the way she could see him breaking, all over again. She watched, unable to move, as he crumbled, and waited for him to hit the floor again.

But he didn't. He only got as far as knees before arms caught him and pulled him in. Kit.

Emma expected Ty to push him away, to flinch from the touch. Instead he sunk into him, eyes wide and breath shuddering as Kit wrapped him up and squeezed. 

~^~

Kit followed Ty's quick footsteps, chest tightening. He couldn’t stop looking at Ty’s shaking hands, the flutter of them at his sides. Thinking how Livvy would take them in hers and squeeze, or rub them gently, until the tremors stopped. How Ty would let Livvy do it, and only Livvy, because Ty loved her more than anything and of course it was allowed. No one else could comfort Ty like his twin could, because no one else knew Ty like Livvy did. 

Ty reached the dais a few steps ahead of him, and Kit’s body knew what was going to happen before his brain did. He released the moment Ty was going to fall, and there was no thought in the way he rushed forward to catch him. 

_Tell me_ , Kit remembered. _Tell me what you need._

_Put your arms around me._

Kit couldn’t prevent the collapse completely, but he fell to his knees with him and held on. His mind ran, telling him this was wrong, he wasn’t doing it right, waiting for Ty to push him away. But he could feel it, in the lines of the boy’s body, that he didn’t have the strength. He leaned into Kit, and Kit could feel his uneven breaths. Could see, still, the blurs of his hands. 

_Tighter._

Kit held tighter. He circled his arms around Ty and squeezed him against him, and he doubted it was a comfort, but it comforted Kit. Ty was here beside him, and he was breathing, and Kit was sure of it because he could feel it. He convinced himself that Ty couldn’t fall apart so long as he was holding him together. 

He felt a little bit like Julian. Who cradled his sister, and begged and pleaded for her not to leave him. Praying to anyone who would listen that she wouldn’t leave him. He was holding her together. He wouldn’t let her fall apart. 

But Livvy had already fallen, and unlike Ty, she wasn’t going to get back up. Julian didn’t have the comfort of her breaths, because she wasn’t breathing. 

Ty’s fingers curled in Kit’s sleeve as he released a sob. It reverberated through Kit and set off his own tears, and he tightened his hold. He eased them down when Ty tried to curl in on himself, until they were sitting on the floor and Ty could curl into him. He dug his forehead into Kit’s chest, and Kit felt the twinge of physical pain like he had that day on the roof, and he squeezed Ty again. 

He looked up just as Julian did. Their eyes met for a moment, and Julian looked unlike Kit had ever seen him. Julian was only ever composed, kind, or threatening. Now, Kit could see nothing but pure heartbreak. Julian’s eyes traveled to Ty, and Kit watched another fracture form. His lips formed his brother’s name, but the sound never escaped. He only looked abruptly away and cradled Livvy closer to his chest, resuming his stream of pleas. 

Kit understood. He hadn’t said anything either. What could he—any of them—say? Especially to Ty. Ty was the smartest person Kit knew, and he didn’t feel comfort like other people did. He didn’t find it in meaningless gesture, only found them just that—meaningless. They couldn’t tell him it was okay, or that it would be, because it was a lie and no one knew that better than Ty. 

Kit rocked him gently back and forth as he cried into his chest. He tilted his own face into Ty’s hair and cried with him. 

Around them, shadowhunters fought each other, oblivious to the group gathered at the dais who had already lost. 

~^~

Kit didn’t know how long they sat in the hall. They had stayed as they had been; Mark holding Drusilla, Cristina holding Emma, Emma holding _Cortana_ , and Kit holding Ty. Kit had sought out Magnus, who was holding Alec where they knelt next to Robert. Julian stopped begging Livvy to wake up and just cried with the rest of them, still cradling her gently. It had been heartbreaking, the moment he’d stopped. Kit had been watching him and he could tell the moment he gave up, releasing a single sob and pressing his forehead to Livvy’s. 

It was more heartbreaking when he stopped. He seemed to simply run out of tears, and he gathered Livvy in his arms and stood, and carried her off the dais. 

Ty had noticed, instantly, the moment they moved. He picked his head up, hands still clenched in Kit’s shirt, and made a strangled sort of noise before pushing himself out of Kit’s hold. He’d shot to his feet and blocked Julian’s path. “You can’t—you can’t take her.”

“We should take her away from here, Ty,” Julian said, so gentle; still taking care of his family while his own cheeks were still stained with tears. 

Ty shook his head rapidly. “She—She would—“ Ty broke off, not seeming to know what he was arguing. Kit understood, though. The only reason they’d be carrying Livvy out of here was because she would never walk out herself—it meant they were carrying her body. Kit knew Ty would never think of his twin like that; as a body, unmoving and not breathing. A dead body. 

“Let me carry her,” Ty eventually decided.

Julian looked hesitant. “Ty…”

“I want to carry her,” Ty repeated, stronger. Then, voice cracking even as he whispered it, “Please.”

This time, Julian didn’t hesitate, carefully handing Livvy over to her twin. Ty cradled her even more gently than Julian had, holding her close to his chest. His hands no longer trembled. 

He didn’t look at his sister, only stared straight ahead, and Kit was glad. No one had removed the sword from her chest. Kit supposed it was for the same reason Ty hadn’t wanted Julian to bring her away. Removing it would have only caused more damage if it was only a wound. But it would do nothing to hurt Livvy now. Now it just seemed cruel. 

Still. None of them wanted to be the one to remove it. 

Aline had whisked Helen away when the arguing had started, fearing for her safety, and Helen hadn’t seen her sister fall. Kit hadn’t either, and it felt like a good thing, because he was sure he would never have been able to erase it from his mind. It was not much of a comfort though, as she had instead found out when she saw Ty carrying her in his arms. 

They didn’t have anywhere to go, here, only that Jace and Clary had returned, along with Isabelle and Simon. Isabelle and Jace had went to Robert first, and Simon had gone with Isabelle, but Clary made the Blackthorns her priority and offered them the Herondale manor. It was large enough to house them all, and she and Jace would stay at the Lightwood manor with their friends. Emma thanked her, squeezing Julian’s shoulder, and so that’s where they’d gone. 

They’d chosen a room to lay Livvy in, and all the Blackthorns were still there as Cristina, Aline, and Kit tried their best to help in small ways. They set up rooms for everyone and made food, though no one wanted to eat. 

Or, Cristina and Aline had. Kit had gone to the bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach, then he’d rinsed his mouth with water from the tap and changed into clothes he found in his room’s expansive wardrobe. 

Then he headed to the room he’d set up for Ty, even though he knew he wouldn’t be there. That’s where he was now, next door to the room where the Blackthorns grieved. He sat down at the end of the bed, trying to get his stomach to stop rolling. 

He couldn’t get rid of the image of the sword in Livvy’s chest, of Julian’s stricken face, of Ty’s trembling hands. He stared down at his own hands as they trembled now and twisted them together tightly. He clasped them, fingers interlocked, and rested his head on the support they created. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there before anyone found him. He was too lost in thought to hear the footsteps pause outside the door, only looking up at the sound of his name. “Kit?”

Jace stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, and his brows furrowed in concern. Kit dropped his hands into his lap. 

“What are you doing in here?” Jace questioned softly. He came in and sat next to him, and Kit thought he was waiting to be told to leave. 

“Just...sitting,” Kit shrugged. 

Jace nodded. There were silent for a moment, and Kit knew it was only because Jace was hesitant to speak. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for conversation, though, so he let it be. Then, “How are you doing?”

Kit didn’t know. He didn’t think he was doing well. He still felt sick, still felt the dizziness he had when he’d first seen her in the hall. Still felt Ty’s head digging into his chest, his fingers clinging to his arms in a desperate attempt to stop their shaking. He wasn’t sure it had sunk in yet, the reality of what was happening, even after his breakdown in the bathroom. He felt like he was still waiting for the grief to hit, for a tidal wave to take him under and keep him there until he drowned. 

“He waited for me,” he said instead of answering. “He sat outside my door and waited for me. The whole time.” Jace stayed silent. “He needs to know that I’ll wait for him.”

“Tiberius?” Jace asked. Kit nodded. “Is that why you’re in here? You’re waiting for him?” 

Was it? It probably was. It made sense. It wasn’t like this was really Ty’s room—it shouldn’t be any comfort to him, shouldn’t make him feel any better, any closer to Ty. But it was, and it did, and it made him feel a little dumb and a little pathetic but he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to be here, when Ty came back. He wanted Ty to know that he was here. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Kit admitted, dropping his head back into his hands. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Jace placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, Kit.”

Kit shook his head, pulling at his hair. “I don’t know what it’s going to do to him. He—Livvy was the only one that could have helped him through this. Now he—he doesn’t have anyone.” He could tell Jace was going to argue, so he added, “None that know him like she did. None that understand how to help him.”

Jace furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Ty, he—the things that comfort us won’t comfort him. And his family will try and it won’t work and it’ll make them feel worse, and then Ty will feel worse because he’ll think it’s his fault,” Kit struggled to explain. Jace didn’t look any less confused. “He’s autistic,” Kit tried. “It’s a mundane medical term, so no one close to him knows anything about it, and neither do you judging by the blank look on your face.”

“A medical term,” Jace repeated. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with him,” Kit snapped, then immediately felt bad about it. Jace had simply taken it as meaning Ty was sick, and Kit shouldn’t be mad at him for misinterpreting his explanation. “Sorry. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with him, just that his brain works a little differently. Everything’s a lot… _more_ to him.”

“And you’re worried that it’ll be the same with this. That he feel it more strongly and in a different way to the others,” Jace understood. 

Kit nodded. “He would anyway—it’s his twin. It’s just. Julian and Emma have each other. Mark has Cristina, and Kieran. Helen has Aline. They’ll all take care of Dru and Tavvy, they’ll be able to comfort them. Ty,” Kit trailed off. “Ty needs to have Livvy.”

“He has you.”

Kit laughed, though nothing about it was happy. It was tired, and self-pitying, and sad. “Poor him.”

Jace frowned. “You’re a good friend, Kit.”

“Even if I am, it doesn’t matter. I’m not Livvy.”

“You don’t have to be Livvy,” Jace said gently. “You’re worried about Ty because you don’t think anyone will understand how to help him. That no one knows him. You seem to know him pretty well.” Kit’s lips parted, but Jace continued. “I know that it’s been hard for you. All of this. I’ve been worried that you still wanted to leave, and when I heard what happened, I was almost sure you would. But you don’t want to leave anymore, do you?”

Kit didn’t even really have to think about it. He remembered wanting to leave. He’d hated all of them, and he was sure they didn’t care about him or his father or what had happened. That they would never care about him—they weren’t capable of—and he could never be one of them. He still didn’t feel like a shadowhunter, not really. But he no longer wanted to leave. The Blackthorns had proven him wrong. Mainly Livvy and Ty, who not only accepted him, but became his friends. They’d given him the chance to get to know them, and he grew to like all of the Blackthorns. He was starting to feel like one of _them_. 

He hadn’t wanted to leave for a while. Not Ty. 

He shook his head.

Jace gave him a small smile. “You care about Ty more than you care about anyone else. That’s clear. Wasn’t that what Livvy did? Cared about Ty, more than she cared about anyone else?” 

There was no questioning that. Livia Blackthorn loved all of her family, those not related by blood included. She would have killed for any of them; but it was no doubt that for Ty, she’d do it twice. 

“Yeah,” Kit rasped. “Yeah, she did.”

Jace squeezed his shoulder. “Then you’re off to a good start. You don’t have to worry about no one being able to help him if you can do it yourself.”

Kit shook his head miserably. “I know that I care about him. But I can’t help this. I just,” he took a breath. “Just the thought of losing Ty hurts as much as losing Livvy. I can’t,” he sobbed, “I hate how much this is going to hurt him.”

He couldn’t even manage to feel self-conscious about crying in front of Jace. Usually he would be furious at himself for it, but he thinks at this particular time, it’s warranted. He couldn’t stop anyway, if he tried. When he’d had his bathroom breakdown, he cried for Livvy. He was sure that that would be a regular occurrence for the next while, but this was different. Now he was crying for Ty. 

Jace looked pained. “Kit.”

“I’m not a shadowhunter,” Kit said. “I don’t know how to be okay with this.”

Jace shook his head. “No one’s okay with this, Kit. We never get used to losing people. It never gets easier. Being a shadowhunter, it doesn’t give you less feelings. We suffer more loss because of what we do, and we never become accustomed to it. But everyone loses people they care about. We don’t have to just accept it, or pretend it doesn’t hurt us. We just survive it. And you will,” he added. “So will Tiberius.”

“How do you know?” Kit whispered. 

Jace smiled. “Because you won’t accept otherwise. You’re a Herondale. We take care of the people we love.”

Kit wiped the tears off his face, nodding. A comment like that would normally annoy him—he wasn’t a Herondale, he didn’t want to be. But he was starting to think that he did want to be. That it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The Herondales were famous. Kit didn’t want that, definitely not, but the reason they were famous was for all the things they had done. For all the things they’d survived. If anything, Kit wanted to have that strength. He was starting to think he already had their loyalty. 

“Livvy warned me not to leave him. She didn’t believe that I really wanted to be his friend, and I understood because I didn’t believe it either. But I told her that I wouldn’t. It was like she knew,” Kit whispered. 

Jace shrugged, gave another small, sad smile. “Maybe is someway she did.”

Kit didn’t know if that thought should make him feel better or worse, but he discovered it didn’t really do either. “I was going to leave,” he admitted. “I filled a bag with weapons from the institute that I thought I could sell. Ty knew I was going to run. He literally sat on me to stop me,” Kit huffed a laugh, remembering Ty hovering over him, asking Kit to be his Watson. His heart twisted fondly, wondering if Ty would still want that now. 

Jace chuckled along with him. “I’m sure he still would.” Kit looked at him weirdly for a moment, worried he’d said that aloud, before he realised Jace meant that Ty would still stop him from leaving. “Hey, have you eaten anything?”

Kit shook his head. The thought of food when he still had the taste of vomit in his mouth just made his stomach roll. It had disappeared now, but he still didn’t have much of an appetite. “You should eat something. I know you probably don’t feel like it, but try something small, at least. I’m sure you’ll be trying to convince Tiberius to eat, and that would be pretty hypocritical if you haven’t eaten anything yourself.”

Kit scowled at him. He made a good point, and they both knew it. Jace just stood with a smug little smile. As Kit rose as well, Jace turned back to him. “I know you want to be there for Tiberius, and I think that’s great, but remember to let yourself grieve too.”

That was likely wise advice, but Kit didn’t really want to listen to it. His grief had already reached a weight that was becoming difficult to carry—he was scared that if he stopped pushing it and let it settle, it would crush him. He knew that ignoring it would make it worse in the long run, but that didn’t make it easier. He nodded anyway, doubting Jace really believed him and not really caring. Thankfully, Jace accepted it with pursed lips and a nod and led him back downstairs. 

~^~

He panicked about leaving Ty’s room until he went back up to find it still empty. Julian had emerged to put Tavvy to bed, forcing Dru out as well, who surprisingly hadn’t argued. Aline had coaxed Helen out, and Mark had left with persuasion from Cristina and Ty admitting he wanted to be alone with her for a little while.

Kit wasn’t too fond of that idea. He wanted to be with Ty to make sure he was okay. He didn’t like the thought of Ty just sitting in there looking at her, in pain and full of grief. He at least wanted to see him for a moment, even if only to selfishly remind himself that he was in one piece. Julian had seemed to notice his worry, and promised him that Ty was okay—that he’d been convinced this was okay for Ty, if it was what he needed. Kit had accepted this, along with Julian’s order that he go to bed (only after he assured he would either make Ty do the same, or stay with him).

But he came in and laid down a couple of hours ago, and he still feels wide awake. He’s alternated between staring at the wall and the ceiling, occasionally curling into himself and shutting his eyes, urging sleep and fighting back the sadness still threatening to overwhelm him. 

As he lay staring at the ceiling, though, he tentatively stopped pushing the weight. He only gave it a small piece of leverage, still holding the bulk of it back, but he thought if he let it settle like this—bit by bit—it might be less likely to crush him. 

He quickly realised that he’d underestimated, and it all flowed over him in a torrential downpour. His chest tightened with the vastness of it, his breath ceasing and tears springing to his eyes. He gave up and let them fall, eyes trained on the cracks in the roof. 

He already missed her. God, he missed her so much, and he very suddenly wanted her to be there to give him a hug. It was like he’d said—Livvy was the only one that could make losing her any easier. He’d been talking about Ty, but he realised it also applied to himself. Losing her hurt, and she was the only one that would have known how to lessen the pain. 

She was one of the only friends Kit had ever had. He’d kissed her, and he wasn’t sure he would have liked to do it again, but he wouldn’t have _disliked_ it. It wasn’t like he was in love with her, but she was one of the few people Kit cared about, and he was already becoming sick of losing them. 

His father hadn’t been the best or most loving part, but he was his father, and Kit knew he had cared about him. It had hurt when he’d lost him, and it still did, but some parts of Kit’s life were better now. Kit and his father hadn’t been close. But he’d grown close to Livvy quickly, and to have her taken away such a short time after finding her felt cruel. The loss of his father had been a constant and thorough ache like arthritis in his veins. It was something he’d almost prepared himself for. The loss of Livvy was so abrupt that it hurt in the way he imagined it would if he was shot—a gaping, bleeding hole in his chest, the pain intense and consuming. It was a bullet—or an arrow, maybe; he was in shadowhunter land now—that would wound in a way that left a scar, a painful reminder that would never leave him. 

Right now, though, it was raw and open and new. Kit knew this would be the most intense, that it would fade to the same ache in time, but that didn’t make him feel any better right now. 

He curled back onto his side, pushing his face into the pillow. If this was how he was feeling….

God, he wanted to see Ty. He’d held him in the hall, but they hadn’t spoken then, and Kit hadn’t seen him since. He couldn’t imagine what Ty was feeling right now, but he absolutely hated the thought of him being alone, letting his pain consume him like Kit was. He was sure Ty’s pain would be much stronger than his, and Ty would make no attempt to drag himself out of it. He wouldn’t know how. 

Kit clenched his hand in the pillow, trying to will his tears to stop and his body to sleep. He wiped at his face and closed his eyes again. 

They shot open a few minutes later when the handle of his door twisted. His breath caught as it opened quietly, Ty entering the room and shutting it behind him. Kit pushed himself up, sitting with his hands braced either side of him. Ty’s gaze found him immediately, eyes settling around Kit’s chest as he played with the hem of his shirt. 

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Ty’s voice was raspy, and it was too dark in the room to see much, so Kit reached over and flicked on the lamp. The skin around Ty’s eyes was red and puffy, his cheeks flushed, gray eyes dull. Kit had never seen Ty’s eyes look like that; they were always bright and alert, demanding your gaze even though their own was avoidant. 

Kit shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Ty’s fingers tightened on his shirt. His eyes were glossy. “Me either.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted—can I—“ He cut off as tears trickled down his cheeks, hands raising to tug his hair in frustration. Kit rose to his knees at the edge of the bed in front of Ty, hands fluttering around him. He wanted to bring his hands away from his hair at least, because Ty was pulling the strands so aggressively that it had to hurt. But Kit didn’t want to touch him if it was unwelcome, knowing it would only make it worse. 

“Ty,” he pleaded, his own voice hoarse, his eyes watering. “What do you need, Ty? What can I do?” Ty only let out a quiet sob. “Ty,” Kit repeated. “Tell me what you need.”

Ty’s hands fell from his head to grip Kit’s arms, pressing his forehead into his shoulder. Kit wrapped his arms around him immediately, holding tight. This was the first time Ty had ever initiated the contact between them. He had only ever asked, and Kit had given, but he felt a weird sense of joy that Ty had gotten to the point where he was able to take. Kit was sure Ty wouldn’t have done it if he had any fear of Kit pushing him away. There was also the possibility that Ty needed it too much to care, but that was a lot more depressing, so Kit settled on it meaning Ty was comfortable with him. That he trusted him. Kit wasn’t sure he’d ever had anyone to trust him before, and even though it was an unpleasant situation, it was a pleasant feeling. 

Having Ty close again was similarly pleasant, even as his fingers dug into Kit’s biceps and his head pressed awkwardly into the crook of his shoulder. Pleasant though it was not, because it was an unpleasant situation, because Kit could feel Ty’s tears dampening his shirt. Kit held him tighter. 

Kit wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but Ty’s grip didn’t loosen and his tears didn’t stop. Kit could feel the tenseness in his shoulders, in the muscles of his back, in the hands squeezing his arms. He lifted his hand and hesitantly passed it through Ty’s hair, fingers gently brushing through the locks. Nothing in Ty’s body language or breathing changed, so Kit did it again. He carded through the strands, then pressed his fingertips to his scalp lightly, dragging them over it. 

Ty let out a breath and Kit’s ministrations immediately halted. Then Ty moved his arms to wrap around Kit’s waist, relaxing marginally as he turned his face into Kit’s neck. A softer, more comfortable, less complicated position. Making it easier for Kit to keep combing through his hair.

So he does, alternating between brushing his hand through it and lightly massaging his scalp. He’d done it in the hopes it would be a grounding sensation, and Ty’s reaction at least assured him it wasn’t doing any harm. 

When Ty seemed a little calmer, Kit only hesitated slightly before asking, “Do you want to lie down?” 

Nothing, for a moment, and then a nod. Kit coaxed him down next to him, pulling the covers up to their shoulders with Ty still pressed to his chest. Kit rolled onto his back so Ty was partially on top of him and he could rub one hand over his back while pushing the other back into his hair. Ty tucked himself close to his side, his tears sliding over Kit’s neck. 

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” Ty whispered. “Everytime I close my eyes….”

Kit squeezed him. “I know. Me too.” He hadn’t been able to sleep, either. He knew they both probably needed it, but he understood completely and he couldn’t be hypocritical. 

Ty pulled away after a few moments, and Kit panicked before realising he hadn’t gone far, only settling on the other pillow. His tears had stopped, but their tracks were visible on his cheeks and he reached up to rub his his irritably. Kit could sympathise—he hated crying. “I’m sorry,” Ty’s voice remained hushed. “I don’t—I don’t know why I came to you. I just—“

He didn’t seem to know what he was just, but whatever it was, Kit didn’t care. He hated that Ty was apologising. That he felt like he had to. “Don’t be sorry,” Kit said sternly, which was slightly difficult while keeping his tone at the same level as Ty’s. Then, softening again, “I wanted to be with you, too.”

Ty moved to return his head to Kit’s shoulder. “I don’t want to think about it anymore, but I don’t know how to stop.”

Kit slowly wound his arms back around him. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t stop, either. Ty’s voice cracked when he spoke next. “I want her here, Kit.”

Kit squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into Ty’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I can’t make it better, Ty.” He startled when he felt fingers touch his cheek. Ty looked up at him, carefully brushing his tears away. 

“You’re sad, too.”

“Yeah,” Kit whispered. He wanted to tell Ty that he was mainly sad for him right now, but he didn’t know how to explain that. He didn’t want to make Ty feel like he was doing anything wrong, like he was hurting Kit—even though Kit supposed in a way he was. “I just...I can’t imagine what this is like for you, but I know it’s hurting you and I don’t know how to help. That’s making me sad.”

Ty had started crying again, too, and Kit reached up to hesitantly brush the tears away, as Ty had done for him. Ty pressed into his palm, then back into his chest. “Keep holding me. Stay with me.”

Kit wrapped him up tightly. That—he could do that. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. Ty slid an arm around his waist. 

They lay like that for a while, Ty breathing and Kit listening. Eventually, despite all his previous protests, Kit felt Ty fall asleep. A wave of relief washed over him. Sleep, at least, would do him a little good. Kit only prayed he wouldn’t have nightmares. He curled himself closer, and with Ty safe and enclosed against his chest, he let his own eyes shut.


End file.
